


Breaking Dong; or Why Yelp Reviews Matter

by MenagerieOfDarkness



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Ass Play, Cock Slut, Cock Warming, Daddy Kink, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Doctor/Patient, Large Cock, Magic Cock, Medical Examination, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Kink, Medical Procedures, Medical Professionals, Mormonism, Not Beta Read, Other, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Shameless Smut, Smut, Sorry Not Sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:15:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27564394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MenagerieOfDarkness/pseuds/MenagerieOfDarkness
Summary: After suffering from a strange, embarrassing disease for a long time, you decide to see yet another doctor, the esteemed Dr. Carlisle Cullen. But, will his unorthodox treatments more effective than intended?
Relationships: Carlisle Cullen/Reader
Comments: 18
Kudos: 55





	Breaking Dong; or Why Yelp Reviews Matter

The waiting room is cold and sterile, the harsh breeze from the ac unit doing nothing to settle your nerves. You’ve been to doctors before, some of whom even made you feel welcome and cozy in their offices, but you can’t shake the anxiety that grips your heart and makes the itching sensation in your asshole grow even more severe. See, you have a very peculiar affliction that sends you to the doctors a few times each year; itchy ass disease was the technical name for it. Sure, it isn’t deadly like the related ball disease, but it is embarrassing enough that you switched doctors after each visit. You couldn’t bear to see them twice.

“Y/N?” The receptionist chimes from the front desk. “Dr. Cullen is ready to see you.”

You slowly nod, throat growing dry as you stand from the stiff, waiting room chair and walk into the deep caverns of the office. Carlisle Cullen, you thought as you felt your sensitive bum begin to tremble. You never heard of the man before, only that he was an expert doctor and that his Yelp reviews spoke of his prowess and skill. Not that it mattered too much; you just needed one examination to see if the disease had progressed, and then you could move onto the next doctor. But, as you walk into the office labeled “Dr. Carlisle Cullen, MD,” you see something that takes your breath away like your lungs were a whoopee cushion getting sat on by the sexiest man you had ever seen.

Dr. Cullen is sitting on a rolling chair at the other side of the room, one leg crossed over the other to show off just how polished and shiny his shoes were. Oh god, you can almost lick them, taste the leather that was definitely real — wait. You stop yourself before it got too weird; sure, his hair is the color of a field of wheat on a cool autumn day, and his eyes are such a rich chocolate that you want to swim in their depths, get nice and sticky and wet, but you were here for business. Embarrassing, itchy business.

“Oh, Y/N. I wasn’t expecting you yet.” Dr. Cullen slowly rolls over nice and slowly, taking his time as the rolling chair occasionally got caught in some cracks on the otherwise immaculate floor.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure you know why I came here.” You discreetly clench your cheeks together, trying to take care of your little issue without Dr. Cullen noticing.

“Why don’t you remind me?” He rolls closer. “Nice and slow.” He gently licks his lips, moistening his plump lips.

“I have a case of... itchy ass disease.” Dr. Cullen nods thoughtfully, tapping his chin.

“I see, I see. Well, as a doctor, I am very well versed in that condition. I’ll have to perform a rectal exam to see how far your condition has progressed.”

You nod as Dr. Cullen leaves the room to collect his tools and slowly crawl onto the bed like a large, quivering crab. This was always the worst part, and of course, such a sexy fir branch of a man had to be the one to do it. You know exactly what to prepare for, getting onto your hands and knees like an IKEA side table ready to have a knuckle shoved inside of it.

“So, Y/N, are you ready to begin?” Dr. Cullen peels off your jeans, exposing your bare cheeks to the world. They were nothing to be impressed by, but you can feel the doctor staring at them like he was gazing at a spectacular set of glaciers, protruding and untouched by man. You wiggle your hips to signal that you’re ready.

“Just to let you know, we’ve stopped using gloves to help save the sea cucumbers, so what you’ll feel is 100% me.” You hear the wet, sloppy sound of lube dripping onto Dr. Cullen’s fingers, and, despite this being a purely medical procedure, the sound does something for you. But, the second he places his finger near your hole, you yelp in pain and astonishment. His finger, that beautiful pearly piece of flesh and bone, was ice cold.

“Oh, sorry about that. Many of my patients have told me that I have hands as cold as a moonlit Tuesday night in November.” Dr. Cullen sits back onto his chair and rolls over to one of the cabinets, pulling out an electric kettle. Filling it with sink water, he plugs in the kettle and slowly boils the water.

“Y/N, while we wait for the water to boil, tell me more about your disease. When did you first notice you had it?”

“Well,” you shift around, feeling a bit awkward that your ass was bobbing up and down like a Jack in the box, “I’ve had it for a few years now. When I was younger and more naive, I had sex with a man once without a condom. But, after the fact, he told me that his dick was cursed by a witch to transmit horrible diseases. It was about a week later that my asshole started to burn.” His cock didn’t look out of the ordinary, maybe a bit on the thin side, but you don’t judge. His balls, however, were like two massive cherry bombs, hot and inflamed with what you assumed at the time was the magic of premarital ass plugging, but you later found out that he died of itchy ball disease. Some say it was so bad that his balls were kept in a medical museum somewhere.

“Quite unfortunate,” Dr. Cullen nods, and the timer on the kettle goes off. Rolling himself to the kettle, he slowly picks it up, and, to your surprise, he pours the entire container of boiling water over his head, turning the flesh red and steaming like a lobster claw. Much like Birdemic, it was shocking and horrifying.

“Dr. Cullen, what are you doing?”

“No worries. Just heating my hand up for your pleasure. Professional pleasure, I mean.” Dr. Cullen rolls over, lining his finger up to your puckered, diseased hole like a pool cue trying to make the first plunge deep into your colon. His finger is nice and warm like a hug on a hot summer day, sliding deep inside of you. After years of getting these examinations, you barely feel it, but you have not realized just how wide Dr. Cullen’s fingers were, like mini chodes. And, there was something to say about his technique. Instead of doing the typically short search to see how much your itchy ass disease had spread, he starts to wiggle around deeper like an earthworm trying to find moisture to absorb into its flesh. 

“Dr. Cullen, what are you doing?”

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I’m an expert in all things ass.” With that, Dr. Cullen slips in another rotund finger. From your position on the bed, you can’t tell which one, but, from personal experience, you assume it’s his middle finger. It’s warm from the boiling water like a freshly roasted sausage. Now you were starting to get worried. Maybe your disease had gotten so bad that Dr. Cullen had to do this. But, as you turn your head to ask him, you notice something strange about him.

Dr. Cullen’s pale face was as pink and heated as his burnt fingers, his breathing slowly growing irregular. It is clear that he is enjoying himself, licking his plump lips. For a moment, you wish he was licking your lips, but you push that thought aside the moment as the doctor begins to thrust his fingers in and out, doing a bit more than examining you. It hurt at first, but you slowly relax into the sensation, feeling like a corn dog getting skewered over and over again. You can almost psychically feel his cock beginning to swell deep within his dark slacks, a caged Kraken ready to be released.

“Your case is more progressed than I thought. I’ll have to go into maximum overdrive.” The thrusting quickens, and all you can focus on is the wet, gooey sound of lube spilling from your gaping asshole each time Dr. Cullen allows one of his knuckles to come up for air. But, the doctor carries his motions with such grace, like Hulk about to penetrate his ogre-lover’s thicc cheeks, that you don’t feel angry or concerned. You just let the pleasure flood over you as Dr. Cullen turns your walls into a slip’n slide.

“Oh, Dr. Cullen,” you moan, knees going weak as Dr. Cullen gently caresses your colon, piledriving your fart box into oblivion. But, then he removes his fingers, smearing lube all over your cheeks.

“Please, call me Carlisle.” You barely notice as his shadow rears up behind you, standing over you like a cumulus cloud rests over a mighty mountain range, ready to rain down with all of the force and intensity of a hurricane. And, like a hurricane, things were going to get very wet and swampy.

“You see, Y/N, while you received your itchy ass disease from a cursed cock, I have a blessed dick, gifted by the Mormon angels themselves.” Dr. Cullen, no, Carlisle unzips his slacks, pulling out his hard marble shaft. You prematurely wince, expecting the cock to be just as cold as his fingers, but he reaches for the kettle once more, dumping the remaining water over his Venus de Milo, pale flesh sizzling and turning red from the heat. You notice how freshly groomed his pubes are, like a meadow of dried grass, and you wonder if he does this to all of his patients, if this is why his Yelp reviews were so high. But, you don’t mind it.

From being sufficiently stretched like a fresh balloon by Carlisle’s fingers, his massive, boiling-hot dick slides into your ass like a quarter into a vending machine, purchasing a bag of flaming hot Cheetos. And you are the greedy, horny person devouring all of those cheesy bits, getting your body all red and sticky and spicy. The doctor begins to thrust, pushing his blessed penis further and further into your rectum, but, as he continues to coat all of your lower intestines with cock, you realize that the pleasurable sensation is not the typical fullness one feels while getting their ass pumped with penis. Instead, his cock is sucking at your insides like a fleshly vacuum cleaner, inhaling your cursed innards. The itching sensation between your cheeks is beginning to subside, replaced with a low ache that throbs in time with his thrusts. You can’t believe it; it’s actually working.

“Harder!” You cry out, the pleasurable feeling of all of his chicken alfredo starting to overwhelm you. “Harder, Daddy Carlisle!”

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” Carlisle whispers into your ear, pounding so hard that you can picture his greasy third arm reaching out of your mouth, surging through your body. Your eyes roll back into your head, mind growing dizzy from the sheer power of his earth-shattering thrusts, like the ground was about to split underneath you. You are surprised that the examination bed hadn’t fallen apart yet or that your nethers aren’t currently overflowing just by the thought of Carlisle fucking you silly with his magic cock. But, without a moment's notice, you feel yourself begin to heat up like a campfire: slowly at first, and then in a rush of heat and passion.

The sucking sensation continues, like his dick is eating your booty like groceries. It almost becomes too much to handle, but you keep yourself upright, Carlisle’s warm, lubey hands holding you steady, fingers plunging into your plush skin. You try to keep your moans in, embarrassed that someone outside of the office could hear you, but Carlisle bends over once more, his tongue almost grazing your eye are he speaks.

“I want to hear your voice, kitten.” That is all the permission you need, and you let out a high pitched moan like a chainsaw on helium. You can tell that it is music to Carlisle’s ears, the Kero Kero Bonito of sexual sounds.

You continue for several minutes, the room filling with the sweet melody of your love, harmonizing with the sound of Carlisle’s professional, medical-grade cock snorting your itchy ass disease. The burning sensation is now almost completely gone, your entire cheeks being cured. You thank the Mormon god Stephenie Meyer as you swiftly cum all over the bed, sure that She is watching down over you, happy that you are practicing anal sex, which does not count as premarital sex.

Soon after you douse the examining table with your healthy juices, you feel Carlisle begin to quicken his pace, holy grail beginning to grow hotter and not from the boiling water. He releases the beast, sperm awakened from his cold, dead balls by the heat from the water. You gasp as your entire ass goes numb, the aching itch finally gone, at last, painful sores soothed by his healing marinade.

“You’ll have to keep it inside for two to three hours.” Carlisle rustles around in his lab coat and pulls out a large, shiny butt plug with a picture of him giving a thumbs up on the base. After expertly slipping his cock out like a hand from a pickle jar, he pushes the butt plug in, sealing his all-natural ointment inside of you. You feel it slosh around as you stand on weak, quivering legs and slowly pull up your jeans. 

“Thank you, Daddy Carlisle.” You give him a fist pump, and he gets onto his rolling chair, rolling beside you as you walk back to the waiting room. The receptionist gives you a knowing look, but thankfully, she doesn’t say anything. But, you don’t care about that; you are leaving the office with a newfound trust in Yelp reviews and the ability to enjoy life to your ass’s content.

“I guess this is it.” You feel a bit sad as you wave and begin to step out the door. Sure, you’re happy that your itchy ass disease is gone, but now you had no reason to see Carlisle again, yet another doctor you only saw once.

“Bless up,” he says, rolling away on his chair into the sunset, never to be seen again.


End file.
